Don't Forget
by Boboballison
Summary: For those of you who are here for porn, you might like this story. For those who arn't you might also like it. Give it a try. Set shortly after Eragon arrives at Trojnhem. Clinging to each other, Eragon and Murtagh attempt to survive, is there more? slash
1. Chapter 1

I arose early in the morning, stretching and tangling myself deeper into the rough sheets of my cot. After tossing and turning several times in a half hearted attempt to lull myself back to sleep, I force my toes to touch the cold stone floor of the dragon's keep.

"Saphira?" I reach out and brush her mind.

A low growl responds. I ignore her indifference and try again.

"Saphira!" I wait and listen

"What?" she at last grumbles in reply

"Murtagh" I state simply, sharing my feelings and hurt with this simple mention of a name. A wave of sadness and worry ripples through me. We both ignore the emotions pulsing through the mental link we share. I am roused from my thoughts by a heavy foot fall outside my room. A moment later Orik appears holding a platter of meat for saphira and two plates of bread and water for ourselves.

"Morning, silver hand, much to do, hurry, hurry, eat."

I grab of chunk of bread and tear into it with my teeth. We eat in silence as I build up the courage to ask Orik my next question. After a Smokey sigh and a sharp mental nudge from saphira, I clear my throat and say, almost too quickly,

"Orik, I wish to attend to some personal matters first, if I may?"

I debate adding the question at the end, afraid my request will be denied.

Orik looks up from his cup; puzzlement and reluctancy clear on his face.

"if I may ask, silver hand, what is it you intend to do?"

Now I am reluctant. My face flushes red and I speak slowly and unsurely, casting my eyes to the floor.

"I have been longing to speak with Murtagh."

I look up to see Orik fingering his beard thoughtfully.

"well..." he begins

I hold my breath

"Very well, follow me." he says in his rough dwarves accent

My sigh of relief is audible

Orik leads me through the labyrinth that is the dwarven city of tronjehm. We turn this way and that, for so long that I am sure that Orik is lost or mad. Just when the panic begins to swell in my chest, we round a corner and I nearly collide with Orik. We are standing in front of a large wooden door, in the center of which is a barred window. Two dwarves guard the entrance with swords and shields clutched in their hands. Orik says something to one of them in dwarfish to which he nods sharply and opens the door. Light floods the tunnel from the prison and I step eagerly into the cell. I am so shocked by the pleasantness of the room that I barely notice the door shut behind me. My eyes are still adjusting to the light when a voice rings out beside me.

"Eragon?" the rich tenor voice floats across the air. I turn to see its owner, standing frozen in front of a cushioned chair. His wavy brown hair falls in locks around his shoulders. His crystal blue eyes remind me of a clear creek, frozen over in winter. His hard jaw line and sets lips hold my eyes. Only when I notice his even breathing, his chest rising and falling in steady motions, do I realize I have been staring for minutes. I think to respond but I can come up with nothing to say. As if he can feel my distress he answers for me

"Are you well?"

Desperate to make up for my awkward silence I grasp for words, stuttering

"Yes, I am very well. But I've missed you. Are you well? Of course not, you're locked up in..."

"It's quite nice here, don't you think?" he cuts me off, ignoring my blundering comment. He sits back down, seemingly relaxed, and motions for me to do the same,

"It's hardly a prison" I reply, falling back into an overly cushioned chair.

"Yes, they have made me comfortable, all the books I could possible read, and more food than I could possibly eat." he chuckles and adds "I'll be a lug."

I smile at this, relaxing finally. I sink further into the chair and breathe deeply.

I came to the prison expecting to see shackles and chains, expecting to see Murtagh in great distress. I so worried about his condition I considered making his release my only compromise for the Varden. A weight has been lifted off my chest, but a thought still consumes my mind with worry. I push it back. His eyes catch mine and my train of thought is broken again. I struggle not to look away, and I am bothered by the fact that he is seemingly at ease. I force myself to remain relaxed and appear indifferent, a hard task when we sit a few feet away. He looks his left for a moment and begins rustling through a pile of papers on a nearby end table. I take the chance to notice his face, free from his holding gaze. I try to memorize every feature, but his eyes catch me again, his eye lashes are so long I think he will blink and they will tangle somehow. We sit in silence for a time, before Orik calls.

"Silver hand, we have much to attend to"

It is silent for a moment

"I must be leaving" I tell Murtagh remorsefully

We break eye contact, only for a second, but it's long enough. My shoulders tense, my brow furrows, and my worries for Murtagh and myself return. I avoid his eyes as I stand, and cross the room, but allow myself one final glance. He stands and crosses the room in three strides. I am frozen again, unsure of what is happening. Murtagh leans in slowly, so close I can see every feature of his face. He turns his head suddenly and whispers in my ear.

"Be safe" his breath tickles my neck, and I feel his soft lips graze my cheek. His hand lightly touches my waist, and quickly tucks a piece of paper into my waistband. He leans back and turns, walking quickly back into his cell, and I am whisked off by Orik.


	2. Chapter 2

First on Oriks schedule is a tour of Trojnhem. This takes hours. Orik walks ahead, spewing facts and history as he goes. I follow aimlessly, trying to appear interested, but my mind is occupied with thoughts of Murtagh. I run through the visit in my head twenty times, and each time his words seem to have more meaning. I long to retrieve his note from my belt and read it's message, but I dare not do it in front of Orik or anyone else, and resolve to open it after the tour in the solace of my room. we start in the bathhouse; a large room filled with natural hot and cold spring pools. We weave in and out of courtyards decorated in statues and short hard grass, streets carved in stone, and houses cut into the base of the hallowed shell of the mountain. I am shocked by the sheer enormity of the city, it could hold two-hundred times it's current population. We make our way to an ancient looking arch leading to a large open space filled with long tables surrounded by chairs. The tables are set with hand painted china and polished silver.

"this is the dining hall, we have our celebrations here." Orik informs me as he directs me towards a chair in the center of the room

"You will also eat here." he sits beside me, where I am seated at the head of the table, and snaps his fingers twice. Two Shaven dwarves appear and fill our goblets with wine and our plates with bread and cheese. I eat silently, absorbed in my thoughts, as Orik gahawfs and talks happily with his comrades. We finish and I see them clearing our place as Orik ushers me back into the maze of tunnels. Our next destination interests me. He leads me to a massive room with a high ceiling, decorated with shelves of books that reach the top. Piles of books that don't fit in the shelves pepper the floor in neat stacks. Ornate rugs and beautifully carved chairs add a touch of warmth to the library. Here I stop, begging Orik for a chance to enjoy the library in detail. He agrees without grimace, apparently pleased with the progress we've made this evening.

"take whatever you want, just be carful with the binding and return it when you have finished" he says through his thick dwarven accent

"don't dally to long." he adds, and walks off down a row of shelves.

I smile at his back, amused.

'He isn't so bad' I think to myself, and make my way to a row of shelves holding somewhat smaller books. I pick one off the shelf and slowly sound out the writing on the cover. I hadn't practice reading or writing since I had been in Tierm with Brom and Jeod. Sadness rushes through me at the thought of Brom, I brush away the thought and focus on the book in my hands.

"Beggar Prince" I read finally, after sounding out every vowel. I smile with self satisfaction and open the cover. The rough parchment pages scuff against each other as I slowly read, fingering the yellow paper with my thumb and following every word with my finger. After a few sentences of struggling it get easier to read. Two pages later, Orik finds me and we continue our tour. I clutch my book to my chest as we walk, afraid of losing it in one of the many halls of Trojnhem. My mind wanders as I count the seconds till I'm alone in my room, but Orik doesn't seem to notice, and continues his tour. After hours of walking down dark corridors, eating again in the awkward silence of the dining hall, and viewing floor after floor of the city, I find myself outside my door. I turn to Orik, half amazed and half relieved that we found our way out of the bowels of Trojnhem. Orik reads my expression and laughs.

"very good, silver hand. You may rest now, I will send someone to wake you in the morning." with that he bows and disappears down the long narrow hall we came from.

I sigh and open the door to my room, reaching out to touch saphira with my mind. She hums in response. She is curled up on a large rug in the center of the room. I toss my book on my bed and rush towards her in embrace. Carefully dodging her spikes, I grasp her neck and nuzzle into her warm scales.

"welcome home, little one." I've missed you today, she hums.

I sigh again and cross the room, plopping down on my bed.

"much has happened. There is much to see in this city." we link minds and I share with her the days events, carefully blocking my visit with Murtagh. Too exhausted to talk, I spread out on my cot and finally reach for the paper Murtagh slipped me. Unfolding it I see a hand written note, urgency is clear through the penmanship.

'Eragon

I can not tell you how dear to me you are, i care for you a great deal, thereforeI must warn you of this, no matter how it endangers me. Galbatorix is searching for me. He can see me, even now, he can CONTROL me. I feel his power growing. You mustn't come near me if I am still in Trojnhem when you see this, I fear I am changing, there isn't much I can do. He has spies here. They will come for me like a theif in the night. Now that he knows you are with the varden, he will not spare you. Stay near the center of the city, never leave saphira. I hope you read this in time. be safe.

I am frozen. My hands shake so much that I drop the note and it floats gracefully to the floor. Tears well in my eyes and I am so afraid that shivers rack my body. Saphira looks up, suddenly aware of the distress pulsing through our mental link.

"eragon?" she springs up, alarmed

My jaw is slack and my eyes are wide, I find the will to turn my head and and choke out one stuttering word.

"Murtagh"


	3. Chapter 3

I break the barrier separating our minds and allow the memory of my visit with Murtagh and his urgent letter to flow through our mental link. I try to force myself to move, to do something, anything, but I am frozen in place. I look at Saphira, fear and astonishment shining in her large blue eyes. I try to steady myself and think rationally. I close my eyes and focus on breathing normally. I suddenly realize I'm more afraid of losing Murtagh than I am afraid of dying at the hands of Galbatorix. How could I go on everyday without seeing him? Without touching him? How could I rise out of bed every morning knowing he is gone? More than anything I want to see him, his smile, his eyes. I have to see him. Now. My eyes snap open and I spring to my feet. I fling open the door of my room and bolt towards the tunnels. It is clearly night time in the hold, there are few torches lit and the city is bare. I use this to my advantage and cut across the massive courtyard in the center of the city, no longer filled with crowds of people and dwarves trading and buying wares. I desperately try to remember the path to the prison, but try not to slow my pace as I twist and turn through the tunnels. Finally I reach the prison, guarded by two puzzled dwarves. I can waste no time, I reach deep into my memory and remember the ancient phrase I need.

"Nactl tayr" I whisper, reaching my hand out towards them. They slump to the floor in a pile, sleeping deeply. I step over the incapacitated guards and unbare the door. I close my eyes, praying for a miracle, hoping Murtagh will be safe, asleep and warm in his bed. I take a deep breath and push open the door.

Review please! I'm pretty self conscious about my writing and I want to know what you guys think before I write another chapter. Thanks


	4. Chapter 4

There is no light in the prison, save a small flickering candle standing on a cabinet. The light touches each corner of the room, flashing and receding like waves. My eyes search the dim room for any sign of Murtagh, but the little light provided by the candle is not enough to fuel my search. I reach into my power as my eyes lock on a torch by the door.

"Brisingr!" I whisper. A spark of flame ignites the torch, filling the room with light. My eyes scan the room once more, franticly searching every crevice for Murtagh's form. My eyes catch on a shadow, hidden behind a dresser in the corner.

"Murtagh?" I ask unsurely, grabbing the torch in my shaking hands and cautiously making my way towards the shadow, afraid of what I might find. His face and body are slowly reveled by the approaching light. He is pressed against the wall, legs pulled against his chest, a kitchen knife clutched in his fist. His eyes are wide with fear, his muscles tightened, ready for the approach of his assailant. I stop suddenly, realizing he can't see my face, and pull the torch closer to myself.

"It's me, Eragon." I say slowly, my voice shaking. Emotion floods his face as he springs to his feet, knife dropping to the floor.

"Eragon." He breathes, his eyes reveling his happiness and relief. I struggle to grasp words, there is much we need to say, but while standing in front of one another, words seem irrelevant. Before I can even open my mouth to speak he rushes towards me, hugging my around the neck in embrace. Frozen in surprise, I blush deeply. My head is spinning from this simple touch. I try to regain my composure, and without thinking snake an arm around his waist, still holding my torch in the other. His head rests against my shoulder, forehead touching my neck and eyelashes brushing against my skin with every blink. I rest my head on his, forgetting any distress caused by the letter, wanting to stay frozen in this moment. His thumbs rub circles on my back, and he sighs, seemingly as content as me. I am afraid to move, afraid will vanish the moment I blink. I promise myself I will never let anything happen to him as I sigh into his hair. We stand like this for minutes, embracing and clutching each other. The relief seems to fade from Murtagh as I feel his muscles tighten and moisture growing on my neck. He pulls away from me, his face is twisted, his eyes are tearful and angry, and his brow is furrowed in grief and confusion. I place the torch aside and step closer to Murtagh. He looks down.

"You have to leave." He says firmly.

My heart palpitates. My eyes begin to water, hurt by his response. Tears well in my eyes, distorting my vision, but I never look away from him. I squeeze them shut and tears roll down my cheeks. When I open my eyes again Murtagh is looking at me

"I don't want to lose you." I whisper looking down again. "I can't lose you. I won't"

I feel Murtagh's hand against my cheek as he brushes away a tear. I place my hand over his. When I look up he is closer, inches away from my face. I tense, afraid to move. His eyes search my face, lingering on my eyes.  
"It isn't safe." He says softly, regretfully.

"I don't care!" I snap "I won't go! You can't make me leave you here!" The tears are flowing harder now. I gasp for breath, breathing heavily.  
"Tell me you'll stay."

He doesn't answer.

"Tell me you'll stay!" I say louder, almost yelling. He touches his finger to my lips gently.  
"shhh." He sooths, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear with his other hand. My breathing slows as he moves in closer; his warm breath touches my face. Moving his fingers from my lips he strokes my cheek, cupping my face with both hands.

"I'll stay." He whispers.


End file.
